James, the Mischief Himself
by DragonisJaiona
Summary: Ever wondered what would happen to James Sirius Potter at Hogwarts?
1. James Sirius Potter

James walked unsteadily down the rocking, zooming train, holding up a lumpy toad that seemed quite keen to run away as soon as opportunity was available. "Found your toad, Trevor."  
Trevor, a small, forgetful round boy, stared at James as he tipped the toad into Trevor's hands. "I – I didn't think…."  
"James Sirius Potter has never lost a bet," James said, drawing himself up proudly and pushing back a tuft of his black hair. "So what was it – five Galleons, you said?"  
Trevor sniffed and rummaged around in his Hogwarts robes, coming up with a small bag that jingled. He reluctantly handed a few Galleons over to James and replaced his money bag slowly. "Thanks for finding my toad, James."  
"Don't mention it," James said, strolling down the corridor to his own compartment.  
James was quite popular for a third-year at Hogwarts, and he sat in a compartment with several people – Ariel, Dmitri, Oliver, and Sarah. They were James's best friends at Hogwarts.  
Ariel was absorbed in her book, reminding James powerfully of old stories that his father had told him of his, Uncle Ron's, and Aunt Hermione's old adventures at Hogwarts. Harry had referred to Hermione as the "studious bookworm" of the group, and James rather thought that this description would fit Ariel perfectly.  
Besides that, Ariel had silky red waves and a quick, genuine smile that she loved to use to her advantage when she wasn't reading. Ariel got top marks – another resemblance to Aunt Hermione – and was tall, on top of all that.  
Sarah was the complete opposite of Ariel – small, brown, and a self-announced klutz. While Ariel was delicate and moved with a dancer's grace, Sarah more than not often showed her clumsy side – like James's uncle Ron – and was as horrible in her studies as the rest of them, besides Ariel, were. Sarah hated books and was the small, fast Chaser on the Gryffindor team at Hogwarts – one of the only third years on the team, with James (the Seeker).  
Oliver was tall and gangling, with ruffled black hair and dazzling blue eyes. It was hard not to notice him – he was the clown of the group, and constantly fooled around in his classes, which none of them could complain about. However, he managed to gather top marks in all of his classes, and he and Ariel argued constantly.  
Dmitri was the quiet one, from far up north. He'd originally been listed for Durmstrang, but with careful consideration, his parents had dropped him at Hogwarts. He rarely spoke, only to answer questions from teachers. He got average marks, like James, and he loved Quidditch, though he wasn't on the official Gryffindor team.  
James took his seat by the windows, across from Ariel, who was pushing her squared spectacles up her nose while scanning the book and turning the pages at lightning speed. Oliver, who happened to be sitting beside Ariel, snatched the book – _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_ – out of her hands and tossed it across the compartment to James. James tossed it back, and they played a fun game while Ariel jumped up hopelessly in the air, her screams renting the air as she demanded to have her book returned. James relented after about ten throws, tossing the book back in Ariel's direction. Ariel caught it flawlessly, stuck her tongue out in Oliver's direction, and stomped back to her seat, fuming. James and Oliver rolled in their seats, choking with laughter.  
"All right, shut up," Sarah said snappishly, breaking her Quidditch conversation with Dmitri and turning toward the two boys. "That's enough. Can't you _see _that we're discussing important topics here?"  
"Well, actually – " Dmitri began, but Sarah cut him off.  
"Shut up," Sarah repeated, glaring at them and turning back to Dmitri.  
James stifled his laughter, ripping open a Chocolate Frog.

0o0o0o

Finally, the train pulled to a slow, steady stop at Hogsmeade Station. James was nearly bursting with excitement. At last, he was coming back to his second home with his best friends. At last, he wouldn't have to deal with his mother's nagging anymore. At last, he was home.  
James chattered animatedly with his friends as they grabbed their belongings and dragged them out into the windy, cold night. Dmitri silently pointed out a carriage near the end, and the five of them clambered to get there first.  
The carriage felt warm and safe, rattling along the bumpy road to Hogwarts. James felt an odd sort of familiarity as they stopped in front of the stone steps and hurried to avoid the eye of Peeves – his dad had warned him about the tricks and troubles at Hogwarts back before his first year.  
The students, shivering and huddled together in clumps, shuffled toward the dining hall, taking their seats. Albus and Rose waved at them from across the entrance hall. James pretended not to notice. The last thing he needed was his annoying little brother to make James noticeable. Wouldn't Albus be fine with Rose, his best friend?  
There was a low hum of chatter hovering in the Great Hall, and it was cut short instantly as Professor Longbottom opened the front doors, carrying a tall stool with a patched, torn hat placed atop it.  
"My dad told me that hat's been here since Gryffindor," James whispered to Ariel, who had happened to take a seat beside him. James would rather have talked to Oliver, who was sitting on his other side, but Oliver was too occupied with hiding his face from his little sister, who was in the line of nervous-looking first years trailing behind Professor Longbottom.  
Longbottom set down the stool.  
"Pity the hat's stopped singing songs," James hissed. "My dad told me that the hat stopped singing two years ago, after some kids started mocking its songs. Plus, there's only so many different songs a hat can invent."  
"When I call your name, please step forward, take a seat on the stool, and place the hat upon your head," Longbottom said to the quieted Hall.  
"Abrams, Melody!"  
A small, frightened-looking girl with bouncing black pigtails scurried up to the stool, jumped onto it, and jammed the hat on her head.  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat announced.  
The Hufflepuff table clapped as Melody took off the Sorting Hat and took a seat with her House.  
"Artie, Ursula!"  
Suddenly, a troop of ghosts floated through the walls and settled down at their Houses. Nearly Headless Nick settled himself near James.  
James looked up politely, flipping his shaggy hair out of his face. "Oh, hello, Nick," he said.  
"Ah, James. Pleasure." Nick smiled. "Oh, that's wonderful," he commented as "Bernard, Adam!" joined the Gryffindor table.  
Finally, "Zebul, Heather" was sorted into Ravenclaw, and the newly appointed Headmistress, McGonagall, stood up at her seat at the High Table.  
"Welcome, both new students and old. I trust you have had splendid holidays. I have a speech to make, but that shall be accomplished after our feast. Enjoy!"  
McGonagall sat down, and the golden plates and platters were filled up with chicken wings, steak, roast beef, mashed potatoes, and many other things that James enjoyed but didn't usually eat at home. He helped himself to vegetable soup as Nick began talking about Albus.  
"Yes, Albus is a wonderful little boy," Nick said, pulling up his ruff that held his neck in place. "Looks extraordinarily like your father, James. And named after a great headmaster of Hogwarts as well. Shame he isn't more like his father. I hear that he's very shy."  
James smiled and finished off his mashed potatoes with a mighty swallow. "Yes, that's right."  
"In any event, we'll be looking forward to having your little sister here next year," Nick concluded. "See you around!" And Nick floated off to join Gretchen Hambone and Frieda Cann at the other end of the table.  
At last, when all the plates had been wiped clear, and Ariel had finished thumbing through _The Standard Book of Spells_, McGonagall stood up, and a hush fell over the room.  
"Thank you," McGonagall said. "Firstly, we have some changes in staff. Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be Professor McAfee – " (there was a scattered applause as a tall, formidable woman with sharp eyes stood up and sat down almost immediately) " – and our new Potions professor is Professor Reynold." An average-height man with a shock of gray hair and a kind, wrinkled face stood up, raised his hand in greeting, and sat down.  
"First-years are reminded that the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds, and our older students should be well-informed of that as well.  
"Mrs. Truss, our new caretaker, has asked me to inform you that the list of banned items at this school has been updated, and can be viewed through any professor, in the classrooms, and a list is also available in your common rooms.  
"Please note that Quidditch trials will begin next Saturday, and the current positions are open: One Chaser and one Beater for Slytherin, a Seeker for Ravenclaw, a Keeper for Gryffindor, and a Chaser for Hufflepuff. If you wish to try for the team, please give your names to your Heads of House – Professor Longbottom for Gryffindor, Professor McAfee for Slytherin, Professor Reynold for Ravenclaw, and Professor Harrison for Hufflepuff. Team captains may set up trials at their leisure, but a team roster must be turned in to your Head of House by the thirtieth of September. Remember that first-years are not allowed to be in possession of a broomstick and may not try out for any team.  
"Classes will begin tomorrow…."  
James tuned out Professor McGonagall and instead drifted off into a daydream, including one in which he won the Quidditch Cup for his House. The Gryffindor Team hadn't won since James's first year, but he knew that since he'd been on the team since the beginning of last year, and he had more experience this time, he could bring his team to victory.  
Suddenly, all the benches scraped backwards with their usual deafening sound and the students filed out of the Great Hall. The prefects, Jocelyn and John, were already halfway out the doors. James spotted Ariel's bright hair and ran after her.  
The Gryffindor common room was still the same – roaring fireplace, comfortable squashy armchairs around round tables, the neat notice board tacked up with the list of banned items, two staircases leading out of it. James, Oliver, and Dmitri bade the girls good night and headed up the staircase, excited.  
The dormitory was exactly the same – except for now, the door read _THIRD YEARS _instead. James burst into the room.  
Rain had begun to fall. It dribbled against the large windows. Bedside cabinets were between the beds, the hangings were open and welcoming, and someone had placed warming pans between the sheets. It felt so comfortable that James fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	2. Unicorns, Fortunes, and a Salamander

"Bloody hell," Oliver said, his eyes widening. "I've got Divination first thing with _Ariel_! Oh, what a nightmare…."  
Ariel glared over her schedule at Oliver's shocked face. "So funny I forgot to laugh," she snapped peevishly, running a finger down her own schedule. "We've got Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid after that. That's great! James, didn't you say that your dad was close friends with Hagrid?"  
"Y-Yeah," James said, examining his schedule closely. "Dammit, we've got double Potions with the Slytherins. Professor Reynold was a Slytherin, wasn't he?"  
Oliver shrugged, pulling a bowl of porridge toward him and shoveling huge spoonfuls of it down his throat at once.  
"You'll scald yourself," Ariel advised huffily.  
They all breakfasted quickly and headed up toward North Tower. Firenze had been reaccepted by his clan a long time ago, and Trelawney had long since retired. Since James's first year, Professor Yearling had been the Divination teacher, niece of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Vablatsky. Professor Yearling had a very different view of teaching a Divination classroom, as she had a regular old wooden door in replacement of what she called "that ridiculous trapdoor". When they got there, they found a short queue of students in front of the door.  
Dmitri was now extremely interested in his ring fingernail of his left hand. Divination was sort of a touchy spot for him, as his father, a private Seer, had died when Dmitri was three. James patted Dmitri's back reassuringly and led him into the classroom.  
The Divination classroom, according to Harry, had still retained its slightly mysterious, cloudy air, but was much improved – the pouffs, armchairs, and round tables stayed, but the air was much cooler and the teacher had a blackboard.  
"So you've chosen to study Divination," Professor Yearling said, looking around at them all. James shifted uncomfortably. His father had tried to talk him out of picking Divination, but all of James's friends had taken it, including Dmitri, who wanted to respect his father's passion.  
"Divination is not something you study for, not a subject where books are extremely necessary," Professor Yearling said. James and Oliver smirked in Ariel's direction.  
"Today, we will start with something simple, tea leaves," Professor Yearling continued. "You, you, and you." Professor Yearling pointed to James, Oliver, and Ariel. "Please pass out pink teacups to the girls and blue teacups to the boys. Mr. Longbottom," she said suddenly, glancing in Trevor's direction. "Do mind that you'll be careful not to break my teacups."  
Trevor nodded fearfully and sat on his hands.  
"You." Professor Yearling pointed to a small girl named Gwendolyn Annamata. "Please pass out a teapot from the bookshelf back there to every table.  
"Once you receive your teapot," Professor Yearling said, loudly, to the entire class. "Pour the tea up to the inside line of your cup, then drink until just a drop or two of tea remains, along with the dregs. Mix the dregs up well, and find shapes in them. Exchange your teacup with a friend. Consult your books to predict what your teacup says, page 4. Begin."  
James picked up the heavy silver teapot and poured tea for each of his friends. They drank it quickly to prevent burning their throats and swirled around the dregs at the bottom.  
"Here," James said. "I'll pass mine to Oliver, Oliver passes his to Ariel, Ariel passes hers to Dmitri, and Dmitri passes his on to me. Pity that Sarah didn't take Divination."  
"She hates predictions and misty stuff," Ariel pointed out, taking Oliver's cup and peering into it. "That might just be a wand there. What does that mean?" Ariel looked down at her book. "You'll be in the Ministry? Great." Ariel turned Oliver's cup slightly to the left. "That looks more like a Grim if you ask me…."  
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Ariel," he advised, looking into James's cup. "That's definitely a Sneakoscope, there. You'll be killing an enemy? Nice."  
James looked into Dmitri's cup. The soggy dregs took shape of a cloak. "You'll be rich," James said, looking into the cup once more. "Nice."  
Dmitri grinned and looked into his cup. "Ariel have good home," Dmitri said slowly, turning the cup around and around. "Oh, and she have money."  
"Excellent," Ariel said happily, taking back her cup. "Thanks."  
James had his cup passed back to him and the four of them waited for Professor Yearling to come by their table.  
"Well?" she said impatiently. "What have you lot got?"  
"I'm going to be killing an enemy," James said dully.  
"I'm going to have a good home and be rich," Ariel said with relish.  
"I rich," said Dmitri.  
"I'll be in the Ministry," Oliver said.  
Professor Yearling looked suspiciously at them all and suddenly, James's cup was snatched out of his hand.  
James began to protest, but Oliver kicked him from under the table. "Watch it," Oliver muttered. "Professor Yearling can be very nasty."  
Yearling turned the cup around and around in her thin, wispy hands. "That is a bowler hat, my dear," she informed him. "You'll be famous."  
"Well, he already _is_, isn't he?" Ariel said haughtily. "His father is _Harry Potter_, for God's sake!"  
Yearling shot a glare in Ariel's direction. "Five points from Gryffindor," she said, her eyes flaming dangerously. Yearling turned back to the cup, swirling the dregs around a bit. "There's a nice wand," Yearling said. "You'll be in the Ministry."  
Yearling put James's cup down and picked up Ariel's.  
"That's definitely a house," Yearling said. "You'll be in Magical Maintenance."  
Ariel sighed as Yearling put her cup down and headed toward Oliver's.  
"That's a Galleon. You'll come across unexpected treasure," said Yearling mysteriously. "That's a chair. You'll have plenty of rest throughout your life."  
Oliver merely looked puzzled as his cup was handed back. Yearling looked into Dmitri's cup.  
"You'll be rich, my dear," said Yearling. She put Dmitri's cup down. "All right, wash out your cups!"  
The four of them collected their cups and teapots and went to the basin in the back of the room, where a queue of students were forming.  
"Lousy predictions, those," Oliver grumped.  
"Especially mine," piped up Ariel. "Magical Maintenance! Really!"  
They rinsed out their cups, dried them, and placed them on a shelf beside the teapot. Professor Yearling dismissed them to Care of Magical Creatures.  
The four of them had slight difficulty reaching the lakeside grounds from North Tower, but they made it safely enough. The class was forming by Hagrid's hut.  
"At least we have it with the Hufflepuffs," Oliver said pointedly.  
"Alright, James?" Hagrid said loudly. Half the class turned their heads in James's direction. James blushed and tried to blend in with his friends.  
"Alright, then," Hagrid said. "We'll be studyin' unicorns, today. Unicorns prefer the woman's touch, so the boys better stan' back."  
The boys backed away obediently while the girls, including Ariel, cautiously took a step forward and stroked the unicorn's mane. The unicorn was quite beautiful, with silky white hide and a swirling silver horn.  
"Got this one from Ollivander," Hagrid said proudly. "Only the first hair plucked from a unicorn's tail is useful, so he lent it to me after he was done. This is a baby unicorn, one he got from a trader up north."  
The boys read up on unicorns from their books while the girls patted the unicorn's mane. Hagrid called the girls back and assigned them all a 11-inch essay on the feeding habits of unicorns and their effect on the unicorn population, then shooed them off to Potions.  
James became increasingly ill-tempered as they approached the dungeons. The Slytherins had already assembled near the door.  
Seymour, James's least favorite Slytherin, was the worst of the lot. His father was Lucius Malfoy's cousin, but contrary to popular belief, James happened to know that Seymour was a half-blood – his mother used to be a popular Muggle actress.  
Seymour smoothed back his smooth dark blond hair and peered at James's group with narrowed eyes. "Oh, the Mudblood," he noted casually, shooting a look in Ariel's direction.  
Sarah stepped forward defiantly. "Don't you dare…" she began threateningly.  
"What you gonna do?" Seymour said, raising his eyebrows. "Using magic in the corridors is forbidden, Vine…"  
"Stuff yourself, Yonwing," James said angrily, clenching his teeth. "C'mon, Sarah."  
But Sarah stood rooted to the spot, glaring in Seymour's direction. "Shut up about Ariel, you piece of…." Sarah reached Seymour before James did and _smack!_ Before any of them knew it, Sarah had slapped Seymour across the face.  
"You foul, dirty slug," Sarah growled.  
Seymour stood dumbfounded while the Gryffindors roared with laughter. Tears ran out of James's eyes. His father would be displeased, James knew, but the look on Seymour's face was too much.  
"Quiet, please," said a voice from the classroom doorway.  
"Please, sir, Sarah Vine here slapped me across the face," Seymour said, turning instantly toward the Potions professor.  
Professor Reynold beckoned for Sarah to step forward. He took them both into the classroom, shutting the door. A few minutes passed, then Sarah and Seymour, both ashen-faced, emerged.  
"Detentions for both of us," Sarah said, grimacing as they filed into the dungeon. "I've got to sort out the spider legs next Saturday - God, spider legs, those are going to take a good deal of time – and he's got to help Madam Jones sort out the library books same time."  
James took his seat by Oliver and Dmitri, while Sarah and Ariel took their seat by Gwendolyn.  
"We will start off the term by brewing a Deflating Draft, for review," Professor Reynold said, while his magically floating chalk began scribbling directions furiously on the board behind him. "Please open your books to page 23 for additional directions. Begin."  
James hastily lit the fire under his pewter cauldron and added water immediately, as the directions instructed, while Oliver flipped feverishly to page 23 and Dmitri began organizing his spider legs and salamander tails.  
_Add one dry pomegranate seed and stir the mixture until it becomes bright red_. James dropped a dry seed into his cauldron and stirred it until the potion was a light pink. Frowning, James gripped his spoon more tightly and stirred passionately until his arms ached. The potion resolutely refused to brighten in color.  
_Maybe I ought to add another seed_, James thought to himself, rummaging around in the box beside him. He came up with another seed, added it to the pinkish liquid, and stirred again.  
The potion became a stronger pink color, but still was not red. Ah, well. James turned back to the blackboard.  
_Mix in a sliced salamander tail with your solution_. James unwillingly picked up a revolting-looking salamander tail and used his silver dagger to slice it into neat pieces. _Your potion should be a dark-looking orange_.  
James added the tail to his potion and watched. The potion smoked momentarily and suddenly, there was a large _poof _noise from the cauldron. All heads turned in his direction.  
The potion had completely vanished. Nothing remained in his cauldron, except for a small pile of ashes and a wriggling salamander that was scrambling to get out of the cauldron.  
Professor Reynold hurried over to James's table. "Mr. Potter," Professor Reynold said carefully. "Didn't I say that one pomegranate seed would suffice? Didn't I clearly state that only three cups of water were needed? I suppose you added four cups and then two pomegranate seeds? Am I correct?"  
"Yes, sir," James muttered.  
"I would like you to write an essay on where you went wrong with your potion, to be handed in tomorrow. And please release the salamander upstairs, through a window."  
"Yes sir." James picked up his cauldron and carried it quickly up a flight of stairs and to a window, where he carefully released the salamander and the ashes. Then he returned to the dungeon.  
Everyone had begun to pack up. Ariel glanced worriedly in James's direction, as did Oliver. "Mate, you just brought that thing to life instead of making it deflate."  
"Ha-ha," James said sarcastically, cleaning out his cauldron.  
They made their way to lunch, tired and starving. James devoured his shepherd's pie quickly and hurried up a staircase to Charms.

0o0o0o

The rest of the day passed by quite uneventfully, and soon James found himself sitting in an armchair by the fire, bent over his essay for Potions.  
"Can't believe that _Hagrid_ gave us homework," James said ruefully, sifting through a pile of textbooks. "_Hagrid!_ And Dad said that Hagrid was his favorite teacher…."  
James turned pages in his Potions book and scribbled down another line or two before throwing down his quill.  
"_Finished_," James said triumphantly, throwing his fist up in the air.  
Ariel snatched up James's essay. "Your writing is quite disproportionate," Ariel sniffed, dangling the essay in Sarah's face. "Look at this!"  
This was true. James had started out writing too small, and, realizing this would mean more work filling out a roll of parchment, had begun to write in large, oversized lettering. Near the end, he'd forgotten about writing big and gone back to tiny script. His essay seemed to bulge in the middle and deflate near the ends, like a half-forgotten balloon.  
Oliver snorted and dipped his quill swiftly in black ink. "Well, at least I'm making effort here," Oliver said, carefully writing _Feeding Habits of a Unicorn_ across the top of his page.  
Ariel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you got so far that you've written an _entire_ title. Good job."  
Oliver began arguing furiously with Ariel.  
"Well I don't see…."  
"A lot of effort! It took you the entire night to figure out the title…."  
"Shut up!" James and Sarah yelled at the same time. Dmitri was poring over a book, _Hogwarts, a History (Revised Edition)_, and therefore had no clue what was going on.  
Ariel and Oliver saved a last dagger glare for each other and Oliver turned back to his homework. Ariel had completed her homework earlier and was now flipping the pages of _A Beginner's Guide to Divination_. Sarah was fixing up her broomstick with James's kit.  
Just as James was screwing the cap on his ink bottle, Joseph Wood, the Gryffindor team captain, hurried over to their table.  
"Vine, Potter," he said. "Tryouts are next Saturday, and we've got twenty people trying out." Wood turned toward Oliver, Dmitri, and Ariel, all of whom seemed mildly interested. "You're all welcome too," Wood said curiously. "See you around!" Wood turned and went up the boy's staircase.  
"You're trying out this year, right, Sarah?" James said expectantly.  
"Nope," Sarah said.  
James's jaw fell open. Sarah was one of the quickest, best Chasers he had seen in his life.  
"Why not?" James said incredulously, staring at Sarah.  
"Well, my mum got on my case for my grades and…." Sarah shrugged. "I'm not allowed."  
James groaned.  
"It sounds quite interesting," Ariel said. "And my dad has taught me how to fly on a broomstick. I must say that I've improved a lot, and I'm going to try out."  
There was a moment's shocked silence, then everyone burst into hysterical laughter.  
"Right, right," Oliver said, gasping out the words. "You – trying out – hilarious…"  
"I'm serious, you know," Ariel said indignantly.  
Everyone shut up immediately.  
"Ariel, you can't be serious."  
"It looks quite fun!" Ariel said angrily. "I'm willing to try out."  
James stared at Oliver. "Are you buying this?"  
Oliver shook his head and turned back to his incompleted essay.


	3. Quidditch Trials

The rest of the week flew by, but Defense Against the Dark Arts on Friday was by far the most boring class James had been to so far, and that was saying a lot, since James also had History of Magic.  
"This is a class of serious work," Professor McAfee began. She set her book down on the desk in front of Trevor, who froze. "No misconduct or fooling around will be tolerated."  
The entire classroom was dead silent. Oliver looked petrified, something you didn't see every day. Sarah and James were the only two who looked even remotely relaxed, not at all the usual standard expected from the mischievous third years.  
"Turn to page one in your books and begin reading," McAfee said sternly. "When you are finished with the first chapter, you will answer the questions on page 4, to be turned in to me by the end of the class. Begin."  
And the rest of the class went on in complete silence, maybe an occasional cough, an audible sound of an uneven quill scratching on parchment, or maybe a page turn.

0o0o0o

"Torture, that class was," James moaned, massaging his sore fingers as they headed to the Great Hall for dinner.  
"Tell me about it," Ariel said dully, pushing her glasses up her nose. "All of those questions had _nothing _to do with the passage we'd just read. And the passage itself was quite stupid, too."  
The five of them moaned and griped all the way to the Great Hall, but all fell silent when they began eating roast beef and potatoes. After dinner, they headed back up the staircase toward Gryffindor tower, gave the Fat Lady the password (Planet orbit), and collapsed into the common room.  
"Today was the worst day ever," Oliver said, his face pale. "All those words – what the bloody hell does _obsolete _mean?" He pulled a mousey first-year out of his chair and fell into it.  
"It means old-fashioned," Ariel answered, kicking Oliver out of the armchair and helping the first-year back into it. "Out of date."  
"Thanks for clearing that up," Oliver snapped. "It would've been useful information _during _class."  
"Well, you heard McAfee, _no talking_," Ariel mimicked. "Whatever." She disappeared up the girls' staircase, tossing her red hair back.  
"Nice job," Sarah said snappishly, collapsing into an armchair. "Herbology was the most awful, if you ask me."  
"What is Professor Longbottom on about?" James said irritably, falling into an armchair himself. "Bubotuber pus? Why the hell would you want so much? There's only so many kids with acne in the school."  
"Like Lionel Watters," Oliver said. He guided Dmitri to a chair, as Dmitri's head was stuck in a humongous volume.  
"Stupid kid, trying to curse it off," Sarah muttered.  
Suddenly, Ariel appeared at the table, holding a broomstick – a very good looking broomstick, but no, it couldn't be….  
"Yup," Ariel said happily. "The Firebolt _Three-Thousand_. Perfect aerodynamic power, resistant against wind, repels water, never chafes, nearly unbreakable. Cost my dad a fortune, but he said it was worth it once I made the Gryffindor team."  
James's jaw fell open. "You're actually _considering _it?" James said, glancing in Oliver's direction. "You weren't _serious_, were you?"  
Ariel put her hands on her hips. "I wasn't joking, you know," she said stiffly.  
Sarah leaned over. "Man, for a broom like this, I would do anything," she murmured, fingering the gold lettering on the handle.  
"International Committee of Quidditch approved," Ariel boasted, stroking the broomtail. "Can't even bend a twig on this thing."  
Oliver eagerly leaned forward, grabbed one of the twigs at the bottom, and pushed upward. Instead of the twig breaking, Oliver's finger merely bent under the twig.  
Oliver was utterly baffled. "Merlin's pants," he yelped.  
Ariel smiled thinly. "Think I could ace the tryouts with this thing?"  
A chorus of "mm-hm"s and "definitely!"s came from her friends. Ariel grinned and ran off to put back her broomstick.

0o0o0o

Early the next morning, Ariel and James met up in the entrance hall. They ate breakfast quickly, long before anyone else was awake, and trooped down to the Quidditch Field early to practice flying before tryouts.  
James looked on enviously as Ariel soared around the pitch, waving and yelling hysterically and even attempting the Wronski Defensive Feint, but decided to back out just in time and pulled upward again.  
"OI!" yelled Joseph Wood, just as James was clipping the twigs on his Nimbus Four Thousand. "Come down onto the pitch."  
James and Ariel shouldered their broomsticks and marched down to the field. A horde of people were already gathered around Wood, yelling and complaining.  
Joseph looked around hopelessly, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and blasted the loudest whistle James had ever heard. The group quieted down.  
"Thank you," Wood said firmly. He directed them to sit on the grass.  
"We'll be holding the tryouts in groups," Wood said. "If you are a first-year or not in Gryffindor house, please leave now."  
There was absolute silence, and a group of second-year Ravenclaws, snorting with laughter, scurried off the field.  
"Any more?" Wood said, scanning the faces. "Good. You five." He pointed to the foremost five people. "Grab your broomsticks and go near the stands over there. The rest of you go sit in the stands."  
James and Ariel stood by the stands while the rest of them sat down.  
"Okay, you five," Wood said. "Mount your broomsticks and – _is that a Firebolt Three-Thousand?_"  
"Yup," Ariel said happily. "Nice, innit?"  
"I'll say," Wood said cheerfully. "Okay, make three rounds around the stadium. If you can't even do that, you're out."  
Two people crashed as soon as their broomsticks left the ground, both second-years. Wood shooed them off the pitch. Now the only people remaining were Harriet Cresswell, James, and Ariel.  
"Alright, then. We need a Keeper most of all, since Samuel Westly graduated last year. And the rest of the team will be easier to organize." Wood looked carefully at them all. "Ariel, you're the right build for a Chaser."  
"Good, I was going to try out for that," Ariel said in a relieved tone.  
"Good, then." Wood glanced at Harriet, a fifth-year. "How about you?"  
"I wanted to be a Chaser," she said.  
"Good," Wood said. "Light, speedy. That'll be good. And James, you'll try out for Seeker, of course."  
"Right," James said.  
"Excellent." Wood turned to the stadium and said, "Sonorus."  
"All those trying out for Chaser come down to the field," Wood said. "And make a few rounds round the Quidditch pitch."  
In the end, Wood ended up eliminating half of the Chaser hopefuls, who walked off the field, dejected. At last he narrowed down three – Ariel, Harriet, and a girl named Chelsea Bridgeway.  
"Seekers!" Wood called.  
James, Gretchen, and a girl named Lola Jamieson walked onto the field.  
"Make a few rounds," Wood said.  
James and Gretchen made it around okay, but Lola Jamieson fell off her broomstick halfway.  
"Sorry, Lola," Wood said. "You better get that ankle checked out."  
Lola limped off the pitch.  
"That leaves you two," Wood said. "I'll throw a few Muggle golf balls. Whoever catches the most wins."  
Wood called Ariel onto the pitch to throw balls for Gretchen, and they began.  
As expected, James didn't miss one, while Gretchen spent most of the time being pelted by balls.  
"Clear winner," Wood said, thumping James on the back. "Great. KEEPERS!"  
At the end of the tryouts, they'd managed to relist their old, reliable Beater and a new, broad-shouldered Keeper named Terrence Hadley. Wood was still a Beater.  
"Great turnout, everyone," Wood said. "Thanks for showing up."  
The rejected hopefuls grumbled as they headed off toward the castle. Wood called back the team members into the stands.  
"I want this team to train _hard_," Wood said clearly, looking around at them all. "Let's win this Quidditch Cup!"  
They nodded. Wood dismissed them, and they headed off toward the castle.


	4. An Injury Among Us

"Wood must've been mental," said Oliver in disbelief, shaking his head. "Letting Ariel onto the team." "Oliver," Sarah snapped. "It was a completely unbiased, fair-and-square decision. Shut up about it now."  
Oliver sighed heavily and picked up _A Third-Year's Guide to Defensive Magical Theory_ roughly. "This book is stupid," Oliver said scornfully. "Rattling on about nothing."  
Ariel pushed her glasses up her nose. "It makes quite a few interesting points."  
"You've only read one chapter," Oliver said exasperatedly. "How would you know – "  
"In fact," Ariel said indignantly, "I've read the whole book cover-to-cover."  
"Even so," Oliver persisted, "how can this bloody book make an interesting point at all?"  
"I never said they were _good _points," pointed out Ariel patiently. "Look. '_This course has been Ministry-approved and is designed to hone a third year's ability in defending themselves against the Dark arts_.' _Ministry approved_. This means that they're preventing us from learning the _real _stuff."  
Oliver groaned. "Dumb it down, will you?"  
Ariel flashed a look at him. "It means that the top dogs don't want us to get the real stuff," Ariel translated flatly.  
Oliver grinned and stuck his thumbs up. "Better."  
Ariel smacked Oliver's arm with her book. "_Anyway_," she continued pointedly, "here's another thing_. _'_The three most Unforgivable Curses known to man are the Killing Curse, the Imperius Curse, and the Cruciatus Curse. All three are extremely illegal and harmful._' They don't even give a _shred _of how to defend ourselves against it," said Ariel. "This book is really quite stupid."  
"Yes, what else is new?" Oliver said, yawning. "We've said the word stupid approximately twice in this conversation, and I think if I've already used it once, that means you have no…"  
But his words were cut off. Ariel was beating Oliver's right forearm repeatedly with the heavy book, managing to splutter strangled words as she did so.  
"Stupid – bloody – git – can't – listen – to – anyone – for – five – seconds – "  
"Ouch – _ouch – _geroff! Geroff me!"  
It took the combined efforts of the rest of them to pull Ariel off Oliver and confiscate the book. Three minutes later, Ariel sat, fuming, in her armchair with her arms crossed and Oliver was massaging his arm.  
"Crazy woman," he muttered every few seconds, blowing on his arm as if it would help.  
Dmitri was watching with mild interest as Ariel and Oliver turned away from each other, cursing under their breaths, and Dmitri's book lay completely abandoned by the fireside. James finished transfiguring his feather into a pine needle and back again, and Sarah finished her numbers chart for Arithmancy.  
"Thirteen inches, cherry and dragon heartstring," James said happily, polishing his wand. "It's never failed me."  
Sarah sighed, rolled up her chart, and stuck it in her bag. "How in the bloody hell am I supposed to take Arithmancy?" Sarah groaned. "Your aunt Hermione said it was alright, but that was when good old Professor Vector used to teach it. Now all we have is Professor Grublin and she's not a hit."  
Ariel looked over the top of her book, which had been returned to her on the condition that she wouldn't use it to harm Oliver. "Divination seems alright to me," Ariel said tentatively. "But all this stuff about tea leaves and crystal balls is a bit fishy."  
"You won't believe what she told me while we were reading our cups yesterday," Oliver said. "She told me suffering was in my future. Great."  
"And we're doing tarot cards next month," added Ariel, flipping a page in her book. "Which is why I'm reading this." Ariel held up a battered library copy of _Tarot Cards for the Untrained Beginner _to all of them. "My mum was a tarot card reader, but she's not a witch. She stopped reading cards and became a lawyer." Ariel rolled her eyes. "Wizarding tarot cards are much more different than Muggle cards."  
Oliver yawned ostentatiously. "Boring."  
Ariel clenched her fists and began furiously punching Oliver's upper arm.  
After this, it was decided that James and Ariel should switch seats.  
Ariel turned to all of them again. "Tarot cards sound interesting so far. There's the hippogriff, the merman, the tawny owl…"  
Ariel began boring them all stupid. James returned to writing his Herbology essay (and was quite glad to do so), Dmitri picked up his book and began reading again, and Sarah resumed thumbing through _Quidditch Through the Ages_.  
"Look," Sarah said suddenly, cutting through Ariel's lecture on the meaning of the hippogriff. "The Bludgers used to be made of metal, and after the "improved" iron Bludger killed four members of the Irish international squad – "  
"You lot," said a voice.  
All of them spun around to find Wood strolling toward their table.  
"James, Ariel," Wood said happily. Then he turned to Sarah, and his face fell. "Sarah! Why didn't you try out?"  
"Not interested much in Quidditch anymore," Sarah said hastily, whipping _Quidditch Through the Ages _behind her back.  
"Ah, pity," said Wood, crestfallen. "You were one of the best Chasers." He turned to James and Ariel.  
"Spread the word," Wood said quickly. "We need alternates for our team members – McGonagall's new rule – and we're going to hold more trials next Saturday. All our team members need to be there so we can find someone that _fits in with the team_, alright? Next Saturday! I've put a notice up on the board." Wood walked back to his friends.  
"I'm starting to doubt joining the Quidditch team," Ariel said offhandedly, flipping a page in her book.  
There was a loud _thunk _as James, Dmitri, and Sarah dropped their books, and a smash as Oliver broke his ink bottle all over the floor.  
"Reparo," he said quickly. The ink bottle flew together, but there was a deep stain on the rug. "Tergeo."  
The ink stain vanished.  
Ariel stared around at them all. "What was that about?" she demanded.  
James shook his head. "Ariel, you've got an international standard broom. The best there is. Unbreakable. A legendary broom, and you want to _quit _the Quidditch team?"  
Ariel glared at James. "_Boys_. All you care about is Quidditch! I never said I wanted to _quit_, but I've seen the schedule Wood's handed out. There's a practice scheduled three times every week – "  
"The schedule of a star," James argued. "That's the point of joining a team, Ariel! You have to abide by the team rules, be willing to overcome what's in your way, working around the schedule. You _signed up for this._"  
Ariel sniffed, hopped out of her armchair, picked up her bag, and stalked up to the girls' dormitories.  
Sarah groaned. "Way to set her off, James."  
"Well, she was being ridiculous!" James turned to Oliver and Dmitri for support. "Guys?"  
Oliver nodded enthusiastically. "She was being a prat," Oliver said.  
"Dmitri?" James said desperately.  
Dmitri shifted in his seat, an expression of greatest pressure on his face. "No comment," Dmitri said finally in a whisper.  
Sarah narrowed her eyes. "I, for one, think Ariel's right," Sarah said. She got up and left.

0o0o0o

There was a tangible cold silence between the five of them at breakfast the next morning. They ate their fried tomatoes and sausages in silence.  
"First Quidditch practice today," James said dully, cutting off a piece of his fried tomato. "Ariel?"  
Ariel turned away pointedly and struck up a conversation about hippogriffs with a startled Sarah.  
James glanced at his watch. It was nine in the morning, and Wood had asked the team to be at the pitch by nine-fifteen. Saturdays were of greatest importance, Wood had stated firmly.  
James shouldered his broomstick and walked out to the field. Wood was already there, scribbling down a team roster.  
"Great, you remembered." Wood stood up and pointed to the crate. "Those are the balls, there. Be careful with them. If I lose any of the balls, Madam Tane is going to murder me."  
Nine fifteen swung by, and the team had more or less formed a circle around Wood. The only person missing was Ariel.  
"Where's Ariel?" Wood said loudly.  
Chelsea, a fourth-year, walked up to Wood and whispered in his ear.  
Wood stood up furiously. "She said _what?_" he demanded, punching the air with his fist. "What in the bloody hell! That" (he called Ariel something that made the other team members gasp in horror) "is going to bail on us?"  
"The second greatest Chaser was Annabelle Donovan," Harriet pointed out.  
"Someone find Annabelle Donovan," Wood said quickly. Harriet and Chelsea tore off the field and toward the castle.  
Wood turned to them tensely. "Release the Snitch, James. Go around and catch it. Terrence, throw these Muggle balls and Richard and I will hit them toward some targets."  
In five minutes, Terrence was tossing soccer balls toward Wood and Richard Covington and James was flying around on his Nimbus, in search of the fluttering Golden Snitch.  
James caught the Snitch, three minutes later, just as Chelsea and Harriet were coming onto the field with Annabelle Donovan, a pretty, tall, quick fourth-year that had performed second-best to Ariel.  
"Right, team, huddle up!" Wood roared.

0o0o0o

It was one of their most brutal practices ever.  
At the end of practice, James was thoroughly miserable. He'd been beaten, bumped, slapped, and fallen off his broom once. To add insult to injury, Ariel had quit the team.  
James trudged toward the showers, rinsed quickly, changed into his school robes, and checked his watch. It was right before lunch.  
He went into the castle to find Oliver and Dmitri lounging in the entrance hall, swapping Chocolate Frog cards and Every Flavor Beans – a typical Saturday exchange between them.  
"Hello," James said sullenly.  
The two boys jumped. "What's wrong, James?" Oliver said, examining the Frog card that Dmitri had just offered up. "No, I've got ten Ptolemys. I need a Dumbledore."  
"Quidditch. Brutal practice," James grunted, sliding down onto the floor beside them.  
"How about Harry Potter?" Dmitri said, holding up a glinting gold card.  
"This is – this is a _rare gold _Harry Potter!" Oliver said excitedly. "What do you need?"  
"I need Urdhahrd, Agrippa, and Kingsley Shacklebolt," Dmitri said quietly.  
"Excellent! I'll trade you four of each for that gold card!" Oliver said happily.  
"Oh, stop making a fuss over my dad," James groaned, massaging his arm where Richard Covington had slammed a Bludger into it by accident.  
"Rare gold, James," Oliver said thickly, chomping down on the leg of a wriggling Chocolate Frog. "So, what'll it be, Dmitri?"  
"Nope," Dmitri said. "I keep gold Harry Potter."  
Oliver moaned. "I'll take a silver standard Yelena Holmes card for the Agrippa and Shacklebolt, then," Oliver said, handing over the cards.  
Dmitri gave Oliver a silver-lined card with a brunette witch that was scratching her nose.  
"Back to the beans!" Dmitri said, holding up a box of the beans and examining a grayish-yellow bean carefully. "Want to try this?"  
Oliver wrinkled his nose. "Urgh, no. How about this?" Oliver held up a funny-colored light pink bean. "Looks like shrimp to me."  
"All right then," Dmitri said. "You try this." Dmitri handed Oliver a dark green bean.  
The two held up the beans and shoved them into their mouths – within seconds, both were spitting horribly into napkins.  
"Ugh. That was grass," Oliver choked.  
"That… rose…" Dmitri gasped, spluttering.  
The two coughed the last of the disgusting flavor out of their bodies and stood up, brushing off their robes.

0o0o0o

James had been hoping all weekend that Quidditch practice on Tuesday would be even a slight improvement from the practice on Saturday.  
He couldn't have been any more wrong.  
Tuesday's practice was, if anything, much more brutal. James was flying around, looking for the miniscule Snitch while the rest of them hit around Bludgers, tossed around Quaffles, and blocked shots.  
James got hit repeatedly with the Quaffle, due to Annabelle's horrible reflex control, and eventually got hit by a Bludger so hard that he felt a sickening crunch on his jaw. He fainted.

0o0o0o

"That was awful."  
James heard a murmured reply, and a sharp pain shot up the side of his skull. He winced and opened his eyes.  
Madam Golden, the witch in the hospital wing, was shaking her finger and yelling furiously at Wood, who was cowering sheepishly. "Such rough practices – someone was bound to get injured eventually! Oh, James…"  
James tried to hold his hand up to massage his jaw, but his arms felt too heavy. He propped himself up on his pillows.  
The lights of the hospital wing were very bright, and the bed comfortable. The team was huddled round the bed, along with Sarah, Oliver, and Dmitri.  
"Don't move," Madam Golden ordered sharply, shuffling around in the back. "The left side of that jaw was completely shattered, and your teeth collapsed without the support. I've fixed up the teeth so that they stand up by themselves, but I had to give you Skele-Gro for that jaw. You've been knocked out for twenty-six hours."  
_Twenty six hours_. James shook his head in disbelief, ignoring the sharp stabs running up his face.  
Madam Golden walked to the foot of James's bed with a vial of bubbling orange potion. "Here. Drink up, and don't let me catch you dumping it into that plant."  
James nodded and swallowed the potion in one gulp. It was cool and watery, sliding down his throat with ease, and tasted like water.  
Wood, who had been pacing up and down the corridor, now positioned himself at the foot of James's bed, clutching the bedframe. "I'm sorry, James," Wood said in a strangled voice.  
"It's – it's fine," James stammered.  
Madam Golden swiftly whipped the vial out of James's hands and examined it. "Good," she said. "Now." She brandished a fresh vial of potion, filled with a flat brown liquid, and an eyedropper. She squeezed a few drops into James's throat. "Too much of this potion may cause giddiness," she explained, pocketing her materials.  
James fell back onto his pillows. A strange, tingling sensation was crawling up the side of his face.  
"Should've seen McGonagall's face when she heard, mate," Oliver said. He opened his mouth to continue, but suddenly the hospital wing doors slammed open.  
Rose Weasley tore into the wing, rushing straight to James's bedside, Albus right at her heels.  
"Your – mum – said – to – tell – you – that – she's worried," Rose panted, clutching at a stitch in her chest. "She said you're to stay in bed until tomorrow night."  
James looked around quickly at his friends, who were all trying to hide their sniggers. James groaned. "Rose, not to be rude, but please leave. And take my brother with you."  
Rose nodded quickly, took Albus's hand, and said, "C'mon, Al. Let's go do our homework."  
"Ah, innocent ones, aren't they?" Oliver said, grinning and watching as the two flounced out of the hospital wing. "Not one injury in their lives."  
James felt his jawbone gingerly. Instead of feeling his skin, he instead felt rough material – gauze, medical tape. His jaw had been wrapped.  
"When do I get out of this he – I mean, when am I leaving?" James asked innocently as Madam Golden walked briskly back to the bed, holding up a tray of tea and buttered crumpets.  
"You're leaving tomorrow night, as your mother suggested, and she is quite right," Madam Golden said curtly, setting the tray down on James's lap. "That was a nasty fall you took. I might like to mention that you have a few bruises on your arms and shins. They've been taken care of. Also, your team has been forbidden from performing such rough practices." She shot a glare at Wood, who was determinedly staring at his shoes. "Now leave, all of you!" she said loudly, rounding on the team and James's friends. "Go, go!"  
The team, grumbling audibly, shuffled out the doors. Oliver and Sarah waved goodbye, and the team didn't look back. 


	5. Gryffindor Versus Slytherin

James was discharged from the hospital wing the following week. As a result, he'd missed a week's worth of assignments and homework. He often stayed up late in the night, catching himself from falling asleep while he flipped through endless volumes of books that the teachers had assigned. The Gryffindor game against Slytherin approached, and the tension in the common rooms was so unbearable that James had taken to the library most evenings, Oliver and Sarah by his side. Ariel had forgiven James upon his being released from the hospital.  
"Bless you, Ariel," James said fondly as they sat in the library one evening. Madam Hornby prowled the shelves, picking around the books and shooting occasional glares in their direction.  
Ariel had been correcting James's Herbology essay. She looked up, her eyes narrowed. "You misspelled Venomous Tentacula twice," she informed him, scooting the essay back across the highly scrubbed table. "You really should use one of your uncle's Spell-Check quills, dead useful, really."  
"I'm not big on spelling," James reminded her, using his wand to correct the mistakes. "You know that. Now, what have we next?"  
"You've still got the Cheering Charm to practice on Oliver," Ariel said, while Oliver's jaw dropped in mock horror, "and a four-foot-long essay on Unicorn Horn and Tail Hair Use for Professor Reynold. Plus, you've got to read four chapters for McAfee."  
"Damn McAfee," James said angrily, throwing his DADA book across the room. The book hit another in the Restricted Section, causing the Restricted book to fall off the shelf, fall open, and start shrieking in a high-pitched tone.  
At last, Madam Hornby had something to yell at them for.  
"Out, OUT!" Madam Hornby said loudly, brandishing her long, snake-headed walking stick. "I knew you five were trouble from the start, knocking over books in the library – I've had it! OUT!"  
She tossed James's book back at them and shooed them out of the doors with her stick. It was quite a relief once they reached the Fat Lady's portrait.  
"Damn her, too," James panted as an afterthought, stumbling into the common room and collapsing into a chair.  
"Bloody hell, she's gone mad," Oliver muttered, flipping a book open with a smart lick to his finger. "If I were you, James…"  
But James never found out the end to Oliver's sentence, for at that moment, Wood came marching through the portrait hole, his face purple.  
"POTTER!" Wood said loudly, causing a nearby owl to flutter out of the room in fear. "Where were you at today's practice? _The match against Slytherin is THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW!_"  
"Damn," James muttered. "Forgot, Joseph…."  
"_FORGOT_?" Wood said in loud disbelief. "_The day after tomorrow, James,the day after tomorrow_! It's the most important match of the season – if we lose this one, we're out of the running."  
"I know, I know," James said. "I'm sorry."  
"You'd better win for us the day after tomorrow, or you'll be sorry," Wood thundered, sticking a finger in James's chest. "Got it?"  
Wood stalked out of the room.  
"You'd think I killed his mum," James said angrily. "I had a lot to catch up on, and it's his own fault that I was in the hospital wing in the first place."  
Ariel nodded. "This is exactly why I quit the Quidditch team."  
Oliver and James faced Ariel with a hard glare.  
"Well, I had very good reason," Ariel said feebly, turning back to her book.  
"To each her own," Oliver muttered, slamming his book shut. "I call this a day. Anyone?"  
James shoved his essay back into his bag. "I'm with you."

0o0o0o

Saturday arrived, and there was a palpable excitement climbing in the air. James's stomach was knotted intensely as he sat down between Oliver and Sarah, who were both shoveling down bacon.  
"Eat," Oliver said thickly, pushing a platter of eggs toward James. "It's energy food."  
"Not hungry," murmured James, nervously straightening his Quidditch robes. Why was he acting like this? It wasn't like it was his first Quidditch match, after all. He'd done Quidditch many times before. So why was he so scared now?  
In the end, Oliver ended up forcing two strips of bacon down James's throat. James felt like vomiting after he was done, and he walked shakily down to the locker room, his broomstick shouldered.  
"All right, team," Wood said smartly. "We've got a ruddy good team. The Cup's going to have our name on it this year. Good luck!"  
Wood led them down to the pitch, where shrieks, cheers, and screams from the Gryffindors pierced the frosty air. The Slytherins booed from the other side of the stadium.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… _the Gryffindor team!_" announced Oliver from his commentary box. "And there are the bloody old Slytherins…"  
"OLIVER!" yelled Professor Longbottom, the newly assigned Deputy Headmaster, from behind him. "Please comment in an unbiased way!"  
"Sorry, Professor, only joking," Oliver said hastily. "Annabelle Donovan seizes the Quaffle – rather nice looking today…"  
"_Oliver_," Professor Longbottom said warningly.  
"Sorry, sir," said Oliver flatly. "Anyway. Donovan grabs the Quaffle – ah, no, Geneva Grinchley from Slytherin takes it back. Chelsea Bridgeway from Gryffindor manages to snag it out of Grinchley's hands at the last minute – ah, no, penalty!"  
The Gryffindors booed while Geneva Grinchley triumphantly grabbed the Quaffle and headed toward the goal posts. Terrence Hadley leaned forward on his broom, his gloved hands positioned.  
Suddenly, without warning, Geneva faked a left and shot the Quaffle toward the right. Terrence was ready, however, and zoomed toward the Quaffle, managing to snag it out of the way of the goal posts just in time.  
The crowd of Gryffindors went wild. Screaming and cheering, they waved their pennants, scarves, and rosettes in the air, while the Slytherins booed and stuck their thumbs downward.  
"Hadley of Gryffindor manages to save! Excellent! You dirty, cheating old Sly…"  
"_Oliver Trent, one last warning…_"  
"Right, sorry, Professor. Gryffindor in possession… Harriet Cresswell speeding toward the goals…."  
James flew high above the game on his Nimbus, scanning the skies for any sign of gold. He thought he saw a glimpse at one point, but it was just a reflection from Annabelle's necklace.  
_Come on, come on_, he thought anxiously, squinting around the game. The Seeker for Slytherin, a whip-thin girl named Muriel Yaxley, was lumbering around the game, spinning around wildly while the Gryffindors laughed and pointed.  
Suddenly, he saw a flash right under Muriel's broomstick. He immediately shot forward in the opposite direction. Muriel, thinking he'd seen the Snitch, shot in that direction too. Fortunately, her broom was slower than James's. At the last minute, he pulled out of the crazy dive and shot toward the real Snitch.  
But he hadn't seen the Bludger flying toward him.  
The next thing he knew, an impossible pain was shooting up his left leg as he grasped the Snitch in his bitterly cold hands. "AND GRYFFINDOR SEEKER HAS FOUND THE SNITCH!" Oliver yelled triumphantly from his commentator's box. The Gryffindors caught Oliver's commentary a little too late and immediately began screaming themselves hoarse. The Gryffindor team touched down on the grass and everyone engulfed him in a huge hug.  
"Can you help me to the hospital wing?" James murmured as soon as Oliver had reached them. "My leg."  
"Right, injured hero coming through!" Oliver shouted, supporting James into the school. 


	6. Blowing Up Aliens

Madam Golden was furious once Oliver and James reached the hospital wing, James grimacing in pain, Oliver looking eager but concerned.  
"Another injury with Quidditch!" she blasted, bustling toward the back of the room, where a table was laden with vials and vials of different potions. "Honestly, Mr. Potter! I shall speak to Professor McGonagall about this!"  
Madam Golden pointed a crimson-painted fingernail toward a bed with its hangings wide open. "Lie down. What's wrong with your body this time?"  
James settled into the bed. "Leg."  
Madam Golden flipped briefly through an overly thick volume, skimmed a page, shut the book, and scurried toward the bed.  
"You've broken your shin," she said grimly, passing her wand over his leg. "Good as new." She reached into her robes and pulled out a rather round silver vial. She examined the spindly handwriting on the label, shrugged, and passed it to James. "Have a sip," she said. "Not too much, now."  
His leg felt ice-cold and numb after drinking the potion. Slowly, the cold ebbed away and the feeling slowly returned. "Thanks," he said gratefully, leaping off the small bed.  
"Careful on that leg," Madam Golden warned, turning away.  
James shouldered his broomstick and returned to the Gryffindor common room, where he was met with a roar of noise.  
Ariel and Sarah were busy hanging up some banners across the room, all of which read things like, "_Gryffindor for the Cup!_", "_Go Lions!_", and "_Potter for President!_" Dmitri and another boy named Henry McKean were handing out sweets, cakes, and bottles filled with icy pumpkin juice.  
"GO POTTER!" barked Wood, seeing James enter the room.  
In all honesty, all James wanted to do was go up to his common room and sleep. However, he had just one thing in mind before leaving the room.  
"Get that cream I've been working on," he hissed to Oliver.  
Oliver grinned widely and ran up the stairs to the boys' dormitories hurriedly.  
"Sarah said that you'd gone up to the hospital wing," said Ariel worriedly, approaching James from behind. Her glasses were slipping down her nose. She pushed them up impatiently. "What happened?"  
"Got hit by a Bludger," James said absentmindedly, bending down to tie his shoelace.  
Oliver, trying to conceal a large smile, emerged from the staircase, his hands behind his back.  
"I've got the cream," Oliver said. When no one was looking, he shoved it under his robes.  
"Excellent." James yawned and headed toward the snack table, where there were still tons of Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes. He picked up a few of each and sidled behind a bookshelf.  
There was complete privacy between the shelves. Oliver produced a small tub filled with a yellow, gritty, creamy substance and a plastic spoon. For a few minutes, they worked quietly – ripping apart the cakes, dumping half a spoonful into them, and reattaching and resealing them by magic. Soon, they were done.  
"Brilliant," James said excitedly as they nonchalantly replaced the cakes on the snack table. "Now, we wait."  
They shuffled over to a quiet corner, in view of the table. They settled into armchairs.  
"Ah, bless him," said Oliver fondly as Trevor Longbottom wandered over to the table and shoved a Pasty into his mouth.  
At first, he was smiling, his mouth full of creamy cake. Suddenly, he grimaced and was about to spit it out on the carpet – but it was too late.  
With a loud squawking noise, Trevor disappeared in a puff of purple cloud. As soon as the smoke cleared, it revealed a terrified-looking parrot.  
Everyone fell over laughing except for Ariel. She hurried forward, her wand raised, and performed a complicated curse in the parrot's direction.  
"Parrot Pasties!" James yelled, roaring with laughter as the parrot vanished, to be replaced by a ruffled-looking Trevor. "Marketing them for a Galleon each, that."  
Ariel grabbed Trevor's hand and frog-marched him toward James and Oliver, who were innocently staring up at her.  
"Not funny," she growled. She released Trevor's hand, and he ran, terrified, up the boys' staircase. "Now, you'd better not pull any tricks like that or I'm telling Professor Longbottom."  
"You wouldn't," said Oliver, horrified.  
"Oh, yes I will," Ariel muttered, stalking up the girls' staircase.  
James shrugged and watched as Henry McKean picked up a Parrot Pasty.

0o0o0o

The rest of the term passed by all too quickly, and James found himself having to decide where he was staying for the duration of the Christmas holidays.  
"I'm either going to your house, mine, or staying here, mate," Oliver said, scanning a piece of parchment that his owl had brought him. "Wonderful. My mum says that she already talked to yours."  
Suddenly, a letter was dropped onto James's breakfast plate by his father's handsome tawny owl, Dumbledore.  
James ripped it open eagerly and scanned the letter. "_My _mum says that I should come home for the holidays, since I've been staying here for the past two years." He shrugged and shoveled porridge into his mouth. "Excellent, then. You'll come over and stay."  
James informed Professor Longbottom that he would be going home for the holidays. He and Oliver spent the afternoon in a flurry of packing trunks and bags, and they were soon speeding home on the Hogwarts Express.  
They were joined by Sarah, Ariel, and Dmitri, all of whom were also going to their families. They found a compartment and were in the midst of swapping cards when Seymour Yonwing stuck his beaky nose into their compartment.  
"Ahh, how cute," Seymour sneered, looking down at their Chocolate Frog cards. "Ickle Jamsie is playing cards with his ickle little friends."  
"Damn you, Yonwing," James said warningly, springing up and pointing his wand.  
"Careful, little beastie," Yonwing snickered. "Not allowed to use magic outside of school, are you?"  
Sarah stood up defiantly, crossed the compartment in a single stride, and made her way to Seymour – _smack!_  
"You – foul – bloody – ugly – nosy – " she grunted, punching his arm repeatedly.  
"Ow – geroff me, you beast – ouch!"  
Seymour slunk away sheepishly. Sarah, still looking capable of murder, stormed back to her seat.  
"Honestly," she said angrily, glaring at the shut compartment door. "You'd think that after I slapped him once, he'd stop being such a great arse. But no." She rummaged around in her school bag, came up with _Quidditch Through the Ages_, and immersed herself in it.  
James had taken down his broomstick and had begun to fine-tune it with a broomstick servicing kit that his father had bought him for Christmas. Oliver was watching with mild interest. Dmitri returned to his book, and Ariel was trying to bring them all back into a stimulating conversation.  
"What're your mum and dad planning to do this Christmas?" she said conversationally, putting away her book pointedly.  
"Open presents, I s'pose," muttered James, plucking stray twigs from the tail of his broomstick.  
Ariel glared at him. "Not what I meant," she said, snatching the twig clipper away from James.  
"Hey!" James protested.  
"We're approaching King's Cross," Sarah said quietly, checking her watch. "We'd better change."  
Albus darted into their compartment, clutching his Muggle attire, and Ariel and Sarah took this as a signal to leave and head toward the compartment that Rose was in.  
The boys changed rather quickly – parkas, long-sleeved shirts, jeans, sneakers, windbreakers, their wizard robes stashed in their trunks, hair combed, shoelaces tied – they were done.  
They grabbed their belongings and scooted off the train. James caught a three-second glance around the crowded, stuffed platform – then his vision was obscured by bunches of red hair.  
"Brother! James!" Lily crowed, grabbing James around the middle and choking him. "I miss you!"  
A few onlookers chuckled appreciatively. James peeled off his little sister and dragged his trunk over to his parents, who were standing nearby.  
"Hey, Dad and Mum," James said, loading his trunk onto the trolley his father had brought. "How's life?"  
"Awful without you, dear," Ginny said fondly, embracing her son. "Did you get our letters?"  
"Heard you won the Quidditch game for Gryffindor, son," said Harry proudly, ruffling his son's already untidy black hair. "Excellent."  
Ron appeared with Hermione, who was holding Hugo's chubby hand.  
"There she is," Ron pointed out, nodding toward a small red-haired girl rushing toward them. "Rose!"  
Hermione bent down and hugged her daughter. "Oh, I've missed you," she said, her voice muffled.  
"Mum," Rose hissed. "Let go!"  
Ron sniggered as Hermione stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
"Mum, it's only been a few months," Rose said sternly.  
Hermione grinned. "You're right." She helped load Rose's things onto the trolley.  
As soon as the kids had said their goodbyes and Oliver had made his way toward them, they walked back through the barrier and out into the frosty parking garage.  
In no more than thirty minutes, they were approaching the house that James knew so well – 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry had once told James that the house had been moldy, junk-filled, and basically a decrepit old shack. However, with a few fix-ups and some loans from Gringotts, the parents had managed to clean it up and get it up and running again.  
James burst into the house with Oliver on his heels. They tossed their trunks into the living room and bounded up the stairs two at a time.  
"Excellent!" James said happily, throwing himself into the familiar bottom bunk he knew so well. "You've got the top," he added, scraping his things off of the top bed. They landed on the floor with a _thunk_.  
Oliver, laughing, climbed the short ladder and burrowed into the bed. "I love your house, James," he said sincerely.  
"JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!" barked a voice from downstairs.  
"Urgh," James said, rolling off the bed and landing on the Oriental rug that had been placed there by a fond Grandma Molly. "What's wrong now?"  
They found out soon enough, however. Ginny was fuming and holding up a pair of gloves, a bottle of dish soap, and a pot scrubber.  
"You've got to help out in the kitchen first," Ginny said, thrusting the supplies toward her son. "Don't expect me to do everything by myself." Ginny turned to Oliver. "You may play with the game console in the drawing room, Oliver."  
"Sweet!" Oliver said gladly, leaping out of the room.  
"_Muuum_," James whined.  
"No excuses," Ginny said firmly. "Go."  
James and Albus spent the afternoon washing dishes, scrubbing the floors and tables, cleaning the windows, mowing the lawn, pruning the rose bushes, and repainting a weathered patch by the old oak tree out front. James, aching and sweating, traipsed back into the house to find his best friend eagerly punching buttons and slaying aliens on his console.  
"This is great," Oliver said happily as he slayed his last alien. The words _You Won!_ flashed on the screen repeatedly in bright red letters against a midnight-blue backdrop. "I stayed over at my aunt's place over the summer holidays and played games with her, but this is _way _more brilliant."  
James smiled wearily and turned toward Rose and Lily, who were busy swapping Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.  
"No!" Lily shrieked, throwing back a dark blue bean. "I ate one like that once and it turned out to be blueberry. I _hate blueberry!_"  
Rose, offended, retrieved the bean and thoughtfully popped it into her mouth. "Blueberry," she confirmed, sticking her hand into the box again. "How about this?" she said eagerly, holding up a red bean.  
"Looks like cherry to me," Lily said cautiously, taking it and putting it into her mouth. Within seconds, she was spitting it out into the napkin in her hands. "Urgh. I think it's blood but I'm not sure."  
James rolled his eyes and turned back to Oliver, who had reached level 50 on his own. "Excellent!" he roared as a green, wrinkly alien with huge black ovals for eyes exploded. "Level fifty-one!"


End file.
